My request to go home meets some resistance. Mr. Fame wants me to immediately head to the mansion he's prepared for me. But I have to see Zion. My parents. They deserve an explanation, and the news that I've made it out with the money we need.

Mr. Fame prepares me a bicycle taxi, a less fancy version of the carriage with two men powering the wheels instead. I part with Jungkook, squeezing his hand before I leave. He nods once, accepting that we'll see each other soon.

My neighborhood looks the same as when I left it. I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe I expected it to go through the same turmoil I went through. The buildings should be crumbling more than usual, the streets set ablaze. There are no dead bodies, no blood on the concrete. The quiet past midnight is almost peaceful.

The walk up my apartment building feels strenuous, like my muscles don't want to obey me. The lack of sleep is causing objects to fade in and out of my outer vision—not quite hallucinations, but pretty close. Maybe meeting Jungkook has made me a bit religious. Because I find myself praying to God that Zion has managed to hold on.

I knock several times on the paint-chipped door. I wait a minute, knocking every ten seconds or so. But no one answers. There's no light that sparks on, no movement stirring within. I panic, because there's only one other place they could be.

My feet are moving before I can fully process my thoughts. I race down the stairs. By the time I'm at floor level again, my head is spinning like someone took a hammer to my skull. I panic, hyperventilating. For a second I forget where I am. Is a player a few strides away, pointing their gun at me? Has Jungkook died and left me to fend in League of Fame alone?

I shake my head, dismissing the delusions. I find the bicycle taxi which fortunately hasn't left yet. I climb into the back car, giving them directions to the nearest hospital.

It's a little more than a mile away. But with the speed we're going it feels more like two.

"Here?" one of the drivers says.

I look up to the small hospital building, illuminated by a few outdoor lights that climb up the facade like round spiders. A small red cross indicates the building's purpose. At this hour, there is no one waiting outside. This is an undertaking I must face alone.

"Thank you," I barely manage to mutter to the taxi. I'm on my feet and racing up the steps to the entrance. Once inside, I blink rapidly to adjust to the bright fluorescent lighting.

I manage to make a beeline to the front desk. The lady regards me like I'm a sort of phantom. I look like a complete disaster with my soiled uniform and knotted hair. A shower and sleep can wait, but Zion might not be able to.

"Zion Yang," I say. "What's his room number?"

The lady peruses through her clipboard, and for a moment I want to scream at her to move faster. I've been five weeks away from my family. I can't leave them alone any longer.

"304," she finally says.

I'm racing up the steps, dodging past a few clusters of nurses and doctors. Once on the third floor, I follow the signs to my brother's room. I pause briefly outside the open door. Unsure of what I will find.

I enter to find my parents stooping above my unconscious brother.

Zion has lost weight. He's pale, barely breathing normally with his small set of lungs. My parents have gone under the same stress—they look barely fed, and when they turn after hearing my entrance, I find their eyes to be red-rimmed. It breaks my heart to see them like this. Like they've been abandoned by me. When they needed me the most.

"Cosma," my mother says. Her voice cracks, and she runs to embrace me.

My guilt fades to the most pure feeling of love that covers me and cures my pains like an antidote. My father joins the embrace. I forgot what it was like to feel safe. To have parents to rely on.

Zion's eyes open just barely. "Cosma?"

I extricate myself from my parents even though I want to stay attached to them forever. I move to his bedside. I kneel down. Zion's breath comes out in one release. "I can't believe it's you," he says. "Mom and dad said you joined League of Fame."

I look back at my parents. "You told him?" They both wear grim expressions, like they weren't expecting me to ever come home.

"I'm right here," Zion says, coughing a bit.

"Save your strength," I tell him. "I got the money to afford the transplant. You're going to be just fine."

"You're so brave, Cosma," he says. "Maybe when I'm better, I should join the competition too."

For once, his mischief angers me. "Don't you dare. You will never have to go through what I went through. Just focus on getting better. Then you can go back to school. You've always loved school."

"I do," Zion says. "And I decided what I want to do when I grow up."

My heart aches for him. I want to protect him, to shield him from all the badness in the world. "Yeah? What is that?"

"I want to be an explorer," he says. "I want to head outside the shield and scout the world for new places to live."

"That's a beautiful goal," I say. "You're going to do it. So focus on staying alive, and I'll take care of the rest."

Zion's head lolls to one side. And I can tell he's drifting in and out of sleep. I rise again, facing my parents. They wear similar expressions of worry, relief, and anger. I prepare myself for shouting. To defend my choice to leave them for a minuscule chance that I'll make it out of League of Fame with the riches needed to cure my brother.

Instead, my father comes forward to embrace me again. "Cosma, you're such a reckless girl."

My mother crosses her arms. "Cosma, I am angry with you. But I am also proud. You don't know how much I worried for you."

After my father pulls away, I reach into my pocket to pull out a golden credit card, which almost gives me unlimited resources courtesy of Mr. Fame's company. "I can afford the treatment," I say. "It's the only reason I competed."

My mother's eyes well up with tears. "My daughter, you must've been so scared. I thought I lost you forever. But you are braver and stronger than I could've ever imagined."

I choke up with emotion. "I'm sorry to you both. But I did it for Zion. I have no regrets."

My father leans on his one good leg, holding my mother for support. His kind eyes are so different from the cruelty I've faced in the last five weeks. "My girl is a star, it seems."

I can't help but laugh, the mixture of emotions in me too confusing to describe. "That's right. You can see me on stage with Jungkook."

"Jungkook?" My mother asks.

I realize she's not aware of the boy who was my lifeline and saving grace. "He's the reason I won the competition."

"I'll have to meet him then," my mother says. "Cosma, your father and I... we are so grateful and proud of you. But at the same time, I'm furious with you. We could've found another way to afford Zion's transplant. We could've lost you forever. And then we'd really be lost in this world."

"I'm sorry," I say, biting my tongue to quell the tears. "But I made it through, didn't I?" I hand my gold card to my dad. "Here."

Then a dizzy spell grabs me and pulls me under. I collapse onto the chair by Zion's bed. I try to get up again, but that only leads to me stumbling back—like my body doesn't want to listen, shutting down on me.

"Rest, Cosma," my mother says. The last thing I hear before I pass out is, "I love you so much. Please don't leave us again." 

A/N: Thanks for reading! Your comments and votes are much appreciated!